


Lush Honey

by FadedLily



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 16:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedLily/pseuds/FadedLily
Summary: A slightly kinky little one shot.





	Lush Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Carol has a thing for sharing.
> 
> These are different characters than those in "Awaken Me" and "Lucid Dreams".

She carefully tucks a few strands of brown hair behind her ear, only to have to repeat the action after she looks to the door of the bar yet again. She’s been here for an agonizing forty minutes, and already weary of the game after two conversations, one with a younger girl with a short blonde bob with a conspicuous streak of purple that framed the left side of her face; the other a an older man - clearly unfamiliar with the neighborhood - who told her he was in New York on business. Both conversations were satisfactory, but not quite right. And besides, it doesn’t matter yet.

 

The ice in her tequila and tonic is melting, and she stirs it around to hear the gentle clink. She acquiesces to temptation and steals another glance at the door - and there she is, standing just inside and smiling at the man at the coat check. It’s not a formal place, but the crowded bar area combined with a frigid night makes collecting the accoutrement of the New York winter a necessity. Therese assesses her delicately, carefully, and with rapt attention. Her cream blouse embraces her body intimately. The small, whispered vertical pleats across the front of the shirt contort obscenely as they pass over the generous curve of her breasts. The shirt immediately returns to its place against her torso, clinging and desperate. The shirt is tucked in loosely to a burgundy skirt that is just as eager to adhere itself unabashedly to the curves it meets, ebbing and flowing with her body until it ends abruptly just above her knees. Her heels are simple pumps, but they serve up more delicacies than their modest appearance would suggest: defined and contracted calf muscles, a lifted and firm behind, and an added height that commands attention. An island, a tree in paradise that begs to be climbed, imbibed, and savored.

 

As soon as Therese begins to let her eyes settle on that regal, alluring face, it turns, and her blonde hair dances across her shoulder as she makes her way to the bar. Therese wishes she was speaking to someone, to be distracted from the blonde’s next move, but she knows she needs to make do and resist the urge to watch too closely.

 

* * *

 

“Procurement Analyst?” The woman looks at Therese amusedly. “Do I want to know what that is?”

 

Therese smiles as she takes a sip of the drink the woman in front of her just bought for her. She is taller than Therese, but not by much. She is well-dressed, well-spoken, and effortlessly dominant, both in her subtle control of the conversation and the way she stands near, inching closer, her body language an invitation for Therese to approach. Her hair is long, brown, and half up in an elegant twist. She is dressed in what must be her work clothes, professional but feminine. The fuchsia blouse under her blazer has a ribbon along the neck, pulled into a subtle bow at one side. As she slides the blazer off, Therese sees that the blouse is sleeveless, and toned, tanned arms emerge, their delicate appearance betrayed by an occasional flash of flexed muscle underneath the skin. She is beautiful - and she knows it - but she also knows how to manage it with neither arrogance nor shame. She is perfect, and Therese has to steal a glance across the bar. Carol is sitting on one of the tall chairs, engaging with a young woman with rich auburn hair to her shoulders, a flash of smooth skin visible between where her hair ends and the top of her satin dress begins. Therese cannot see the girl’s face, but she can see Carol’s. She’s smiling, laughing, shifting her legs. Therese doesn’t need to make eye contact with Carol to know she is watching very closely. Carol sees how Therese is being charmed and expertly coaxed. Carol sees the other predator she has been waiting for, and Therese knows she has found what they need.

 

The woman’s hand rests gently on Therese’s forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze as they laugh about something or other. The woman leans over to speak in Therese’s ear, the noisy bar a perfect excuse.

 

“What do you want next, sweetheart?” She wraps her fingers around Therese’s empty glass.

 

Therese reaches for the glass, their fingers touching for a prolonged moment before Therese moves towards the bar and looks back at the woman.

 

“Come on. I’ll tell the bartender myself. I like it a very specific way.”

 

The woman makes physical contact with the bar before Therese, and reaches her hand back to pull Therese closer. At the same moment their skin makes contact, Therese feels someone just behind her. The perfume, the hand placed on her hip and the feeling of Carol’s breasts pressed against her back make her turn quickly. Carol makes no eye contact, just muttering a low “excuse me” as she takes a napkin from the pile in front of them. By the time the woman turns around to bring Therese close enough to order her drink, Carol is gone.

 

She knows what comes next. Or she has an idea.

 

“I’m just going to run to the bathroom. Could you get me a tonic with Patron, two limes and not too much ice?” She runs her hand along the woman’s arm. “I think you can handle it.”

 

Smiling, she turns to the back and heads for the bathroom without checking to see if anyone is following.

 

* * *

 

Carol walks into the bathroom and softly clicks the lock closed. Pausing, she knows she’s not alone. There is no noise, no visual sign of her, but her thick, hot presence is wafting all over. Carol walks down the row of dark, wooden, full-length stalls to the last one and waits. When she hears one small hum, she enters. There she is, leaning back against the wall, hands out of sight behind her. Her dress is a contradiction; the chaste neckline fringed with a delicate pattern of lace becomes sleeker along her hips, then ends with a fluttered hem mid-thigh. Now, in her leaning position, it rides up higher. Carol takes her in fully, lasciviously, making sure Therese sees her devouring her hungrily before she lifts her eyes to the younger woman’s.

 

After a brief silence, eyes locked on one another, Therese starts separating her legs slowly, stopping once to assess Carol’s gaze. There she stays, Carol still standing proud and erect a foot away. Carol looks at the hemline of Therese’s dress and makes a swift motion with her hand. Therese inches the dress up slowly, again stopping to make eye contact with Carol. Carol’s eyes return to Therese’s and she arches her eyebrow; a warning. Therese continues, sliding her hands along her thighs as they chase the ascending hem. Her undergarments are simple and sleek. There is no need for frills or flowers, only something minimal and easy to remove. Replaceable. The black underwear are so slight that they barely cover her, but there is nothing Carol loves more than having to unwrap her present. The lioness wants to chase and toy with her prey before she devours it, hungrily and without inhibition.

 

Carol steps forward and immediately places a hand on Therese, pressing firmly into her with broad pressure, palm open. Therese will not react, she will wait. It will take so much more. Carol wants to give more than any woman could possibly handle before she feeds, and it takes the woman who recognizes that to get Carol to her highest peaks.

 

Carol watches Therese closely, hand motionless against her, leaning in until their faces are nearly touching. Carol can feel Therese’s breath on her face, even and quiet except for an occasional well-controlled sigh from her heaving chest.

 

Carol steals her hand away from Therese and, smirking, pulls her own skirt up from the bottom, an effort impeded by its criminally tight fit. Stopping her upward movement just before revealing what Therese is patiently waiting to see, she angles her hand up and into whatever undergarments are hiding from sight. Suddenly, without preamble, she forces her fingers into herself, immediately closing her eyes momentarily before willing herself to maintain eye contact. Another thrust brings a hot exhale, the next brings the tiniest whimper, and a fourth, almost violent thrust brings a sound loud enough for others to hear. She stops, denying herself. Denying both of them.

 

Her hand emerges from under the skirt, and Therese watches as it approaches her face. Carol takes a pause before her wet fingers make contact with Therese’s lips, then Carol forcefully drags her finger down, spreading her wetness past the edge of Therese’s lower lip, bringing smeared lipstick with it. It’s substantive enough for Therese to feel it, the texture mixing confusedly with her lipstick, and the cool air hits her wet chin to make her aware of just how well Carol has rewarded her. She moves her tongue out hesitantly for a taste, but just for a moment. She leaves what is on her face without question.

 

Carol’s fingers move first to her own mouth, tasting herself for one sinful moment until she leans into Therese, skirt still bunched and askew, and parts Therese’s lips with her fingertips as they slide into her mouth. Again, Therese licks slowly, without haste. When Carol finally scrapes her fingers along her lower teeth, exiting her mouth, she again smears her wetness along Therese’s lower lip, this time dragging her lipstick out on the other side of her mouth. Therese is a perfect mess, and Carol smiles. She lets her dirty hand travel under Therese’s dress and wipes the rest of her arousal on Therese’s inner thigh. She pulls her own skirt down with the other hand and leans in very close, her hair tickling the sensitive spot below Therese’s ear.

 

“Kiss her.” It is whispered, but absolute.

 

Carol exits the stall and does not look back before walking swiftly out of the bathroom, heels clicking loudly.

 

* * *

 

When Therese looks in the mirror, she can see what Carol has done for the first time. She uses her finger to wipe the lipstick from outside where it should be, but carefully avoids removing anything else. She can taste and smell Carol on her, and it gives her a little jolt from deep within.

 

When she emerges from the bathroom, she sees the woman standing at the tall table they have been conversing at, and Therese approaches with a smile. The woman is watching the crowd at the bar, Therese’s drink is sitting just between hers and the edge of the table. No way for Therese to pick it up herself, of course. It will be given to her, most likely with a prolonged touch and a verbal double entendre or innuendo. The situation was sent from above.

 

It takes a moment for the woman to react when Therese sidles up to her. She finally looks over at Therese, composed and seductive. There is no rush; the predator willing to take her time is to be most desired and most worthy of her time. As predicted, the woman hands Therese the drink and leans in so close that her lips ghost past Therese’s neck before she whispers in her ear.

 

“If this isn’t precisely how you like it, tell me. I’ll make sure you get exactly what you want.” As she recedes, her eyes rest on Therese’s lips, and it’s time. Therese leans in, giving her permission to make her move, and the woman takes it calmly, expertly. Their lips meet, and Therese feels a rush that spreads rapidly, everywhere. It’s so many things - the novelty of another woman, the subtle differences in how her lips move on her own, the feeling of being touched possessively by another woman - but most of all, it is knowing Carol is watching. It is both knowing that Therese is already marked, and their lewd secret bounces around the room, deafening to both of them but silent to the outside world.

 

The kiss continues, and when the woman’s tongue enters her mouth, Therese lets out a quiet moan. They are sharing an effortless chemistry, a full-body sensation, and they are sharing Carol.

 

They separate, and Therese steals a glance at Carol. She is met with an unwavering stare, Carol’s grey eyes piercing her effortlessly as she takes a sip of her drink. A drip escapes the glass and lands on her lip - intentionally, no doubt - and she uses her finger to softly usher it into her mouth, ending with a brush of that finger over her tongue. For the first time tonight, Therese can actually feel her wetness on her thigh, having finally seeped through or escaped her flimsy underwear. Her and Carol mixing, everywhere. Carol is in her mouth, between her legs, and in her direct line of sight. As Carol steps down from her seat, she finally breaks her stare and starts to say what Therese recognizes as an apologetic goodbye to the woman she has been talking to, handing her a business card. Therese smiles to herself. She waits for her cue. When Carols turns back once more and looks directly at her, Therese looks back with a feigned innocence, as if unaware of what is to come. Carol knows this is an act, but agrees to play along. She shifts her weight from one leg to another, letting one hip curve out assertively, which she only does when she is on the edge of insanity, a subtle way to give her some pressure by the movement of her legs. A desperate attempt to begin assuaging her uncontrollable arousal. Carol would be soaked by now, close enough that Therese could probably push her over the edge with a light touch, but she wouldn’t do that. She wants to let her lioness devour her first, as she must. But no matter what, Therese knows she will be rewarded with sweet, tangy, abundant Carol all over her by the end of it all.


End file.
